For the underscore lick girl

a little bird warbles
when the quiet of the day is broken
dulcet tones skitter on glassy window panes
she lifts her head and watches
as they all come and go
....He rises and looks
she trembles sometimes
....Most she stands there ,
rooted inspite of,
Her heart yammering, unable to twitch
.....cries she in her sleep
as those dreams wash her psyche
.....Taken to far shores was she ....
He never says a word....
.does she come back? wants she to ?
Maybe and then the lorn singing stretches out a hand
....Steps up to the wafting melody and borne to the nadir.....
ensconced and warm.....
Will she find her hearts desire?....
He knows in the End.....